


Speed Demon

by Sir_Bedevere



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale is a Little Shit (Good Omens), Fluff, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Humor, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, Nonsense, Soft and silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:47:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24524872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sir_Bedevere/pseuds/Sir_Bedevere
Summary: “Angel, I need you to think very carefully for me. Have you, at any time in the last week, fallen down the stairs and hit your head? Walked into a door? Had a piano dropped on you? Anything at all that may explain what the heaven we are doinghere?”Aziraphale, against all the odds, got a taste of something he enjoyed co-piloting Madam Tracy's scooter. And Crowley, of course, will do anything to make his angel happy.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 37
Kudos: 154





	Speed Demon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CopperBeech](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CopperBeech/gifts).



> CopperBeech is recovering from surgery and gave me this prompt for her 'get well soon' fic: 
> 
> _Aziraphale got a taste of something he enjoyed co-piloting Tracy's scooter. Wants to try it again somewhere for some reason, and it's Crowley's turn to be scared._
> 
> My imagination ran away with this and it has, of course, turned into quite possibly the most silly thing I've ever written, but I hope it puts a smile on your face, Copper! I definitely had fun writing it <3 <3

Crowley was pretty sure - no, Crowley was _certain_ \- that the last time he’d visited the New Forest, it was actually new. Not that he’d had much time to look around, what with an assassination to tempt someone into. Poor old King William. He’d had no chance. Never saw it coming. But it was a forest, right? You seen one forest, you seen ‘em all, and Crowley had seen a lot. 

So it was a bit of a mystery why Aziraphale had insisted that they get up before the crack of dawn and drive to the forest. It was a mystery, and also a pain in the arse, because - of course - Crowley was the only one who had been asleep at the time. 

“More coffee, darling?” Aziraphale’s hand appeared in front of his nose containing, thankfully, a screw top cup. 

“Thanks, angel.”

A reusable cup was hardly the most demonic thing in the world, but Aziraphale had made sure to get him one that was mostly black in colour, with little yellow stars on it, so it could have been worse. The coffee was even good as well. Aziraphale had been experimenting with that. 

“Alright,” Crowley gulped down a mouthful. “What exactly is this about?”

“You’ll see,” Aziraphale said, in that maddeningly mild voice. “I think you will be pleasantly surprised.”

“It’s too early for your nonsense,” Crowley grumbled, and emptied the cup. 

Aziraphale only wiggled, and took a pain au chocolat from the picnic basket. Their picnic basket. A tartan picnic basket, that Crowley not only tolerated in his car but also liked to pack with those little bags of popcorn that he’d got a taste for. Sweet and salty. Brilliant. Humans had all the best ideas. 

The drive along the coast could be going quicker, if Crowley felt like it. No real motorway to speak of, not much of one anyway, but the roads were quiet that early in the morning. He could have put his foot down. But Aziraphale was at his side, and he was so excited about whatever he had planned that it seemed very unki - a bit of a dick move to go fast just for the sake of it. The angel would only get upset. And anyway, part of the fun of going fast had been to have Aziraphale’s undivided attention, as he begged Crowley to slow down. Now Crowley had that attention all the time, often in an _extremely thorough_ way, he didn’t need to demand it as much.

Aziraphale held the last chocolate filled bite of pain au chocolat out for Crowley to eat from his fingers, then began to take dainty sips from his own cup. That was tartan too, of course. To match the basket. 

“How much longer, darling? The booking is for eleven o’clock but I do so want to have breakfast first.”

“Angel, did you really just ask me if we’re there yet? And also did you know that you’ve just eaten a pastry?”

“I suppose I did ask, yes,” Aziraphale chuckled. “And a pain au chocolat hardly counts as breakfast.”

Crowley glanced over to see the tail end of a wicked grin slide off Aziraphale’s face. 

“You’re a bastard, angel. Did you know _that_?”

“I do believe you’ve mentioned it once or twice. To which my answer would surely be ‘Et tu, Brute.”

“He never said that,” Crowley grinned. “I was there.”

Aziraphale sighed a long, put upon sigh. 

“I am not at all surprised, you foul fiend.”

“ _Your_ foul fiend,” Crowley said, earning himself a squeak when he reached over to squeeze Aziraphale’s knee. Then Aziraphale took the hand and kissed it. 

“Mine indeed.”

Crowley blushed. _Soft bastard._

Then he edged the speed up, just a bit. Couldn’t have his bastard going hungry, after all.

***

In a pub at the edge of the old, old New Forest, Crowley sat and watched as Aziraphale tucked away a large cooked breakfast and two more cups of tea. He accepted a forkful of poached eggs or two, and a few choice mouthfuls of bacon, then sipped at a coffee. It was a nice enough country pub, but it still didn’t really explain why Aziraphale had dragged him here by nine o’clock on a Wednesday morning. 

“Alright, angel,” he said. “What exactly are we doing here?”

Aziraphale plucked his napkin from his lap and delicately wiped at his lips, then reached into his inside pocket. He spread a leaflet out on the table between them. Crowley read it. 

Then he took off his sunglasses and read it again. 

_Then_ he picked up the leaflet and held it close to his nose, and read it for a third time. 

“Angel,” he said carefully. “Have you, and I don’t mean to be indelicate here, lost your mind?”

Aziraphale chuckled and clapped his hands together. 

“Isn’t it marvellous?”

Just to make sure that _he_ wasn’t the one who’d gone bananas, Crowley unfolded the leaflet and read it again. 

Nope. Still the same. 

Well.

Okay. 

***

“Right, first thing we need to do is get you both fitted with a helmet.”

The young woman showing them around the storage shed was unbelievably peppy. Crowley trailed after her and Aziraphale, hands deep in his pockets. The shed smelled weird. It was just starting to rain outside. And Aziraphale had lost his damn mind. 

“This should do for you,” the woman said, handing a white helmet to Aziraphale. “I can usually tell the size just by looking.”

“Thank you, my dear,” the angel said, pulling it on over his curls. He looked so ridiculous that Crowley forgot he was in a mood and laughed at him. 

“Oh hush,” Aziraphale said. “Your turn.”

The woman shyly handed Crowley a red helmet. 

“It will ruin your lovely hair,” she said. “But it’s the rules, I’m afraid.”

She blushed and dropped her eyes when Crowley bared his teeth at her in an almost smile. It wasn’t her fault that Aziraphale had officially lost it. So Crowley just put the helmet on, clicking the horrible strap closed around his chin. 

“I’ll - uh - I’m just going to check if the rest of the group has arrived,” the woman said. “I’ll be right back.”

As soon as she was out of the shed, Crowley grasped Aziraphale by the shoulders, ignoring the beaming grin. 

“Angel, I need you to think very carefully for me. Have you, at any time in the last week, fallen down the stairs and hit your head? Walked into a door? Had a piano dropped on you? Anything at all that may explain what the heaven we are doing _here_?”

He gestured around him at the contents of the large shed.

Contents that were, without a doubt, a whole bunch of segways.

Segways. 

Segways.

Aziraphale shook his head, and kissed the corner of Crowley’s mouth. 

“No head injuries. I just saw the leaflet at the train station and thought it sounded like fun.”

“Angel. You think tea sets are fun. Old books with broken spines you can mend are fun. Snuff boxes are fun. Sushi is fun. Pastries and bottles of wine are fun. When have you _ever_ found a single thing like this fun?”

Crowley was aware that he was becoming slightly hysterical. Aziraphale had driven him to it before, so it was not entirely unfamiliar. But this was a whole new level of hysteria. Hysteria unknown. Maybe Crowley was the one who had gone mad after all. 

“The truth is that ever since I hitched a ride with Madam Tracy, as you’d say, I find myself thinking of riding on that dear little scooter of hers,” Aziraphale said, biting his bottom lip shyly. “I think that I rather enjoyed it.”

A laugh began to bubble in Crowley’s chest, and as it spilled out, Aziraphale blushed. 

“You don’t have to laugh. I just thought this would be a lovely thing to do. A segway is a bit like a scooter.” 

“I’m not laughing at you, angel,” Crowley said, and he pulled Aziraphale into an embrace. “You’re mad. And I love you. I love you so bloody much.”

***

Half an hour later, Crowley was rethinking that sentiment as he watched Aziraphale and their young guide shoot off ahead of him at the frighteningly top speed of twelve miles an hour, laughing merrily together. 

The trouble with a segway, Crowley was finding, was that it required balance. And when one was a snake at heart, with legs that had - over the millenia - learned how to be legs only in the most general of terms, it was actually quite difficult to stay upright. 

Especially at twelve miles an hour.

So Anthony J Crowley, speed demon extraordinaire, was reduced to puttering along at the extremely embarrassing five miles an hour, wearing a helmet that was ruining his hair, hitting every bump in the rocky forest path and clinging on for dear life. 

The only thing that _could_ have been worse was if the rest of the group had turned up to join their segway tour. At least now, he was only embarrassing himself in front of Aziraphale and whatever-her-name-was-again. He probably had Aziraphale to thank for their private tour, but he wasn’t in the mood to be generous. 

Up ahead, the angel smoothly braked and then turned around, reversing perfectly. 

Bastard.

“How are you, darling?” Aziraphale called. 

“Oh, just _peachy_ ,” Crowley growled, his traitor knees wobbling as he dared to edge the speed up to six miles an hour. Segways had not been built for snakes. Not even human ones. 

“A lot of people find it quite hard to begin with,” Whats-her-name said. “It is quite scary to keep your balance at speed.”

“I’m not scared,” Crowley said, his palms slippery with sweat.

“Alright,” she said mildly. “Shall we push it up to ten miles an hour then? I’d love to show you the view over the valley before your time runs out.”

Crowley almost bit through his lip, face burning with embarrassment, as Aziraphale and the woman flanked him and encouraged him to up the speed. It _did_ feel less like he’d lose his balance with them both there, and there was a chance that he’d fall off anyway and one of them would run over his head, thus ending the whole ordeal early. 

Then they crested the hill and came to the view she’d been talking about. 

“Oh, how lovely,” Aziraphale said, stepping down from his infernal segway and clasping his hands together. “Crowley, do look. Isn’t it beautiful?”

An unkind person would probably have said Crowley fell off his machine, but luckily there were no unkind people about, so he was able to recover some dignity as he unclipped his stupid helmet strap and pulled it off. Aziraphale was right though, he thought, as he stepped up and peered out over the valley. Definitely a much improved forest, since the last time he was here. There was a rainbow forming through the drizzle as the sun pushed through the cloud, and he took Aziraphale’s hand. The angel turned and smiled softly. 

“What can I promise you?” Aziraphale murmured, pointing at the rainbow. “Anything you want.”

“Promise me,” Crowley breathed in his ear. “Promise me that I never, ever have to segway ever again.”

Aziraphale laughed, and kissed Crowley’s cheek. 

“I promise.”

They stood a moment longer, arms around each other, and took in the view. It was a good view. As far as views went. 

“We’re almost out of time,” the woman said. “Anthony, if you’ve had enough, I can get one of the guys at base to bring out the truck and you can have a lift with him?”

Crowley sighed and eyed the segway. A torture machine, and he hadn’t even been the one to come up with it. It was a good thing he’d retired. He would never be able to keep up with the humans. Not these days. 

Aziraphale’s hopeful eyes met his, and Crowley caved. Of course. He put his helmet back on and rapped his knuckles against it. You had to give humans credit where it was due. They’d really got him back here. 

“I’m not going to let this stupid thing beat me. Ezra would never let me live it down.”

Aziraphale _cackled_ as he sped off down the hill. 

Madam Tracy really had created a monster…

Crowley would have to send her flowers, to say thanks.


End file.
